Martha Kehagias
So here I am, blissfully unaware and blissfully late, only realizing, two days too late, that International Potato Day just rolled past like a hot baked potato fresh out of the oven. And not just any potato, but the Cypriot potato. Yes, the island of Cyprus, which you probably only think of as a sunny Mediterranean paradise or maybe a place where Aphrodite popped out of the sea foam, is actually home to some of the best potatoes in the entire world. (Mic drop.)
Now, before you scoff at my excitement about a root vegetable, let me remind you of the star of our show: the Big Potato monument in Xylophagou. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like; an enormous potato statue towering proudly over the town. And it’s mostly loved with a heavy dose of sardonic humor. Because really, what could be more bizarrely wonderful than a giant potato monument? But honestly, it’s perfect. It’s down-to-earth (literally), humble, and somehow happy in a way that only a giant tuber can be.
I mean, potatoes aren’t flashy. They don’t strut around in kaleidoscopic colors or boast a complicated history of haute cuisine. Nope. Potatoes are the underdog of comfort food. They're reliable, warm, and forever humble. And the Cypriot potato embodies that spirit in spades.
From Long Island to Cyprus: Chasing the world’s best potatoes
I should know a thing or two about good potatoes. I grew up on Long Island (New York) where the soil is apparently just right for growing some of the tastiest potatoes in the U.S. When I was a kid, family trips out east meant stopping at roadside farms and snagging a massive 50-pound sack of potatoes for the price of a fancy coffee. Five dollars! That’s like a steal at less than 20 cents per kilo. Imagine trying to get that deal these days.
Fast forward to me living in Cyprus now, and I’m learning that the secret to why these potatoes taste so heavenly lies in the red soil. No, seriously. The soil is literally red and mineral-rich, lending these potatoes a rich, earthy flavor that’s impossible to fake. Apparently, some farmers even haul red soil from the island’s center all the way to the coast just to grow the perfect potato.
The potato varieties: Spunta, Nicola, and friends
Cyprus isn’t just about one potato. No, they have a whole potato family reunion going on. We’ve got:
Spunta: The veteran Dutch variety with long, big tubers, kicking it since 1968.
Nicola: The salad star of Europe, waxy and perfect for any early-maturing craving.
Anabelle: A waxy Dutch salad-potato with a taste so particular it deserves a standing ovation.
Filea: German roots but Cypriot pride, medium-sized with a bright yellow glow.
Marfona & Marabel: The early bloomers, sleek and refined, ready to make your potato salad dreams come true.
The fact that Cyprus potatoes have Dutch and German seed potato ancestors just goes to show: even potatoes get around.
Why do we love potatoes so much?
Because they’re honest. No pretense. Just pure, simple, buttery goodness. And honestly, isn’t that what we all want sometimes? To celebrate something that’s not complicated, not flashy, just authentically there, like a good friend or a warm hug. The Big Potato monument might be a little quirky, a little cheeky, but it perfectly captures that Cypriot spirit of finding joy in simple things.
So yes, I missed International Potato Day. But next year? Oh, you better believe I’ll be celebrating with a scrubbed, skin-on baked potato in one hand and a heaping spoonful of Cypriot potato salad in the other. Because life’s too short to miss out on the humble potato and the joy it brings.
Final thought
If you ever find yourself wandering around Xylophagou, don’t just laugh at the Big Potato. Give it a nod of respect. Because in a world obsessed with the fancy and the flashy, a giant potato reminds us that sometimes, the simplest things in life (red soil, good taste, a giant monument to a tuber) are what truly make us happy.
